Chapter 135: How Can the Central Plains Be Lacking in Heroic Spirit; How Can Foreign Tribes Dare Claim to Be Emperors

What realm lies beyond the tenth realm, no one knows.

Even the current reigning Emperor of Yuanmeng, the undisputed number one in the world, has only stepped into the tenth realm and has yet to break past it.

Therefore, to the mortals of this world, it remains an unsolved mystery. Perhaps... upon the Holy Mountain, that Holy Sage who looks down upon both heaven and the mortal world has truly stepped into the eleventh realm.

That realm which is unimaginable to the mortal world.

Yet, if one traces the flowing river of time backward, are there any peerless figures who entered the eleventh realm?

Perhaps there were. They might have existed during the chaotic era of the hundred schools of thought contending, and that eternal emperor who personally established the Scholarly Academy and the Martial Temple, ended the chaotic age, brought the four seas together, and unified the entire world, perhaps... was also someone who broke the tenth realm and stepped into the eleventh.

Yet, even such an existence could not attain eternal life.

According to historical records, that eternal emperor who unified the realm, forced the Kunpeng Mountain of the demon race and the dragon lineages of the four seas to bow and submit, and inaugurated an era of eternal prosperity, ultimately became a peerless tyrant.

In the end, he provoked immortals from beyond the heavenly gates to descend upon the mortal world to judge and execute him.

As to how that battle truly unfolded and how the emperor recorded throughout the ages actually died, to this day, there has never been a precise conclusion.

It is as though an invisible, giant hand shrouded the vault of heaven, blurring the age of ten thousand years ago with dust and smoke, making it impossible to glimpse the true details.

Was the emperor truly a tyrant?

Was the immortals' slaying of the emperor genuinely an act of ridding the mortal world of a scourge?

Everything has become an unknown, like a fractured chapter of history, forever remaining an era of endless anticipation and imagination for future generations.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng stared at the young man before him, stubborn and filled with unyielding pride, carrying the dying Zhao Huangting on his back, his gaze resolute as he looked upon him, the foremost cultivator in the world, without a trace of fear or despair in his eyes.

Indeed, the Emperor of Yuanmeng could sense an unusual power slowly awakening—a power that filled him with both heart-palpitating dread and eager anticipation.

A crack split open between his brows, from which his primordial spirit vaguely manifested. It was as though a torrential fire of Nirvana was darting within his mud-pill palace, confined securely inside.

His primordial spirit was outrageously powerful, surpassing the ninth realm, transcending the spirit platform, and truly achieving Nirvana.

Unlike Zhao Huangting, who could not control the fire of Nirvana and was inevitably consumed by the flames, seeing his cultivation burn away before withering in regret.

He had mastered Nirvana. Within his physical body, his vital blood surged like an open ocean—he was a true terrestrial immortal. The casual release of a single breath of his energy was enough to part the vast sea and shatter giant waves!

He made no effort to conceal his aura, truly resembling a rising sun, brilliant to the extreme, dazzling to the extreme, and terrifying to the extreme.

A peerless prodigy who had stood as the number one in the world for five hundred years, with no one able to shake his formidable edge.

Among the sects of the pugilistic world, not a single person could challenge his status.

The Two Sects, Three Buddhist Temples, One Star-Plucking Tower, and One Netherworld Abyss were all utterly incapable of shaking him by even the slightest fraction.

This naturally proved the profound and monstrous strength of the Emperor of Yuanmeng.

Today, the dormant blood of the Emperor of Yuanmeng seemed to stir and circulate once more.

The ambient energy between heaven and earth condensed into a tangible substance. The Emperor of Yuanmeng stood firmly on the ground, staring at the young man whose white garments suddenly fluttered in the rising wind.

A wind arose between heaven and earth—a gale!

Sand flew and stones rolled, boulders hovered in mid-air, and ferocious waves beat against the shore!

Within An Le, a strand of sword intent suddenly burst forth, sounding like the plucking of a zither's strings.

With every pluck and strum, ripples expanded outward through the air in concentric circles!

With his eyes closed and Zhao Huangting on his back, An Le lifted the Green Mountain sword. The weapon pressed against his front as he took a forward stride, his toe touching the ground and tracing an arc.

Then, he suddenly thrust the Green Mountain forward.

A wisp of golden sword intent lingered around the Green Mountain, causing the tattered bamboo sword to drift unhurriedly toward the Emperor of Yuanmeng.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng, his aura surging like an ocean, raised his hand in strict readiness and delivered a punch toward the incoming tattered bamboo sword.

Fist and sword collided violently!

The tip of the sword struck the bronze-colored surface of the fist.

In an instant, at the epicenter of the collision, a thin ripple resembling the surface of a lake spread outward. The ripple moved like a gentle breeze, passing by without any grand or thunderous momentum.

However, as the lake-like ripples swept past, numerous formidable experts hastily retreated, either lowering their stances or leaping upward to dodge.

A thousand zhang away, some unwitting birds caught in the wake of the ripples were struck as if by lightning; instantly, only a few stray feathers remained drifting in the air, their physical bodies already blasted into mists of blood.

atop the city walls of the Yuanmeng capital, the grand protective array automatically activated, blocking the shockwave and leaving a faint, indented trace upon the formation.

High above in the firmament, the Master of the Sixth Mountain furrowed his brows. After suppressing the numerous experts of the Yuanmeng Empire with his three thousand swords, he folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the bamboo sword colliding with the Emperor of Yuanmeng below.

A trace of doubt gradually surfaced in his eyes, followed immediately by... utter shock!

This sword strike... actually fought the Emperor of Yuanmeng to a standstill!

That was the Emperor of Yuanmeng, the peerless number one of the double-tenth realm!

An Le delivered a single sword strike—how could he possibly achieve such a result?!

The Master of the Sixth Mountain sensed that something was amiss. So this had been An Le's reliance all along!

An Le indeed possessed a trump card beyond even his imagination.

Suddenly, the Master of the Sixth Mountain recalled the time he stepped onto the First Mountain, when the Master of the First Mountain cast a divination, revealing a single character upon it.

"Ying."

Could it be...

Boom!

Zhao Huangting, carried on An Le's back, suddenly felt an invisible wave of Qi impact his body. His figure was violently blasted backward, drifting down to land on the distant ground.

An Le's white robes fluttered wildly as his closed eyes slowly opened.

Deep within his pupils...

Flowed a brilliant gold!

Surging, golden sword intent!

A fierce gale arose out of nowhere between heaven and earth, causing his white clothes to snap in the wind, while the "Returning Swallow" in his sword case emitted a sword hum of dazzling brilliance.

However, with his hair streaming in the wind, An Le did not draw the Returning Swallow.

He merely gazed with golden-hued eyes at the Emperor of Yuanmeng, who had blocked the bamboo sword Green Mountain.

...

"Senior, come out and take a look... at this realm of rivers and mountains."

Within the Green Mountain, beside the emperor's stone statue.

An Le pressed his palm against the center of the stone statue's chest and spoke softly.

The dripping droplets of golden sword intent-infused rain seemed to revive the stone statue. The corners of its lips, gazing into the distance, curved upward slightly at this moment.

"Very well."

Between heaven and earth, a voice of utmost majesty echoed.

Following the response, a fragment the size of a fingernail cracked upon the cheek of the emperor's stone statue. The fragment crumbled into dust, turning into sand between fingers, and flew upward against the wind.

"There are only ten strands of sword intent, not even enough to sustain Gu in executing a complete sword stance. However, watch it, witness it, and experience the purity of the sword."

"What Gu once advocated was the dual cultivation of physical tempering and spirit refinement. Integrating the techniques of the world, Gu researched a volume of scriptures. You have obtained a fraction of the upper scroll—what is recorded in the Green Mountain is merely the upper scroll. As for the lower scroll, you will need to seek it out yourself."

"It should not be hard to find."

The majestic voice resounded within An Le's mind, lingering incessantly like evening drums and morning bells.

An Le could clearly feel that the rice-grain-sized golden elixir of sword intent condensed in his dantian was beginning to dry up bit by bit.

"The sword, held horizontally, represents 'One'."

"The 'One' of pressing ever forward."

"The 'One' of astonishing the world with a single feat."

"The 'One' of unifying all under heaven."

"Having beheld this 'One', one shall possess an unmatched edge, capable of shattering all things."

...

At the bottom of the Sword Pool Lake.

Currents churned and sword Qi surged.

The old sword saint opened his eyes, a mix of emotional stirring and admiration flashing within them. The awakening of that sword intent from ten thousand years ago represented the ultimate pinnacle of mortal swordsmanship.

It meant that his strategy of using the Sword Pool Lake to suppress An Le had not been wrong.

"The peerless emperor of ten thousand years ago, and today's peerless Emperor of Yuanmeng... How fascinating."

A smile welled up in the old sword saint's eyes.

"This world is about to undergo a transformation. The brilliance of the Central Plains shall return once more."

...

On Mount Qingcheng, Zhenwu Temple.

The ancient and majestic Taoist mountain buildings stood scale upon scale, nestled deep within the mountains. Wisps of immortal mist seemed drawn down from the highest heavens, diffusing among the peaks.

Within the ancient hall.

An aged figure sitting cross-legged upon a straw mat slowly opened his eyes.

Sweeping his horsetail whisk, his eyes were filled with complexity.

"Even this person could revive..."

"However, he has not yet fully revived, and this renowned scholar An is the key to that revival... He carries great destiny. If the Dao Child can supplant him, the Zhenwu Temple will surely rise to even greater heights."

The old abbot of Zhenwu Temple slowly closed his eyes.

The high and mighty immortals in the heavens did not wish to see this person revive.

Then the will of Zhenwu Temple... was to curb his revival.

...

On Mount Yunjin, Celestial Master Mansion.

The old celestial master, with hair as white as snow, gazed at the pond full of purple-qi golden lotuses.

In his hand he held an imperial decree sent by the Son of Heaven of the Zhao family, demanding that the Celestial Master Mansion become the state religion of Great Zhao, on the condition that the mansion offer up a five-hundred-year-old purple-qi golden lotus.

Yet, the old celestial master watched that streak of sword Qi that tore across the horizon.

Upon his deeply furrowed and aged face, a smile suddenly emerged.

The decree in his hand burned directly into nothingness.

This pond full of purple-qi golden lotuses...

Perhaps there was a better candidate for them.

...

Kunpeng Mountain.

"The great wind rises!"

"The King is awakening!"

"Whoever blocks the King's revival is an enemy of Kunpeng Mountain!"

A deep voice, resembling a mournful cry, echoed across the tens of thousands of ravines of Kunpeng Mountain. Countless birds and beasts were startled into flight, flapping their wings incessantly and disturbing the silence of the entire mountain range.

On this day, across the vast expanse of Kunpeng Mountain, beast tides surged and demonic aura filled the heavens!

...

The drifting snow between heaven and earth suddenly grew razor-sharp, every single snowflake spinning at high speeds, imbued with sword Qi.

All of this was the change in celestial phenomena brought about by the surging golden sword intent after An Le opened his eyes. Merely opening his eyes, merely leaking a fraction of his sword intent, was enough to alter the weather of the world!

The soft, falling snow transformed into razor-sharp shards of sword blades.

Behind the hazy evening clouds, a brilliant sun seemed poised to tear through the darkness.

Naturally...

There was also the vault of heaven, where thunderclouds churned and shifted restlessly, about to weave together and form a portal radiating boundless brilliance, suspended above the mortal world.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng had blocked this sword—a sword he had tried and failed to snap five hundred years ago.

Though crafted from bamboo, it was as resilient as peerless refined steel, akin to an entire mountain range compressed into a tiny sword body.

To snap this sword was to snap a mountain.

The great wind rises, and the clouds fly high.

The momentum of the Emperor of Yuanmeng continued to climb. Within the sword he was blocking, the sword intent surged, yet it failed to force him back even half a step.

His eyes shone brightly as he stared at the sword, realizing the secret hidden within it.

So this was what the sword concealed...

The great romantic momentum of ten thousand years ago, that sword intent dormant for ten millennia, was actually concealed within this blade!

The Emperor of Yuanmeng grew excited, his entire body trembling slightly with an irrepressible thrill—the anticipation of crossing epochs to clash with a peerless figure.

Compared to his clash with Zhao Huangting, he accorded even greater respect here. Streaks of bloody light intertwined and wrapped around his entire body.

This was an enigmatic existence, and now, he had the opportunity to measure himself against such a figure!

"Exhilarating!"

The Emperor of Yuanmeng spoke.

An Le, whose pupils were cast in gold, looked calmly at the Emperor of Yuanmeng, this immensely stalwart current number one in the world.

With a single step down, his figure had already appeared before the bamboo sword Green Mountain. This sword, dormant for an unknown number of epochs, shone with brilliant light at this moment. Golden sword intent wound around it, turning the blade into a dazzling golden hue.

With a single finger pressed against the hilt, the Emperor of Yuanmeng felt the onslaught of sword intent!

Boom!!!

Like a giant boulder hurled into a lake, the Emperor of Yuanmeng was sent sliding back eight hundred zhang, finally crashing heavily into the majestic city wall of the Yuanmeng capital, fracturing the protective array woven across the wall into a dense web of cracks.

The eyes of the Emperor of Yuanmeng shone as brilliantly as the blazing sun.

"An alien race, yet you dare enter the Central Plains and claim the title of emperor?"

"Has this realm of rivers and mountains truly fallen so ill?"

An Le, his eyes flowing with gold, looked at the Emperor of Yuanmeng, yet only furrowed his brows and spoke indifferently.

His words carried an indescribable sense of disappointment.

In the firmament.

A trace of melancholy inevitably surfaced on the cold face of the Master of the Sixth Mountain.

Zhao Huangting, sitting upon the ground, wore a face full of profound shame.

Wan Jielu, standing a thousand zhang away, trembled uncontrollably, his heart surging to the extreme.

The numerous experts of the Yuanmeng Empire did not understand what was happening, but they could feel an oppressive majesty weighing down upon the world, making it difficult for the Qi within their bodies to circulate.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng, having smashed through the protective array with his back, slowly pulled his body free.

Staring at An Le, whose pupils were golden, he smiled and said, "This sword strike was a courtesy, so naturally I must return the courtesy."

The Emperor of Yuanmeng stepped forward, instantly leaving countless sprinting, lingering afterimages in his place, while the ground burst apart in a succession of deep craters and fissures.

The distance of eight hundred zhang was closed in an instant. The Emperor of Yuanmeng delivered an unadorned punch, yet this unadorned strike represented the absolute essence of his combat prowess.

The vital blood within his body roared and sprayed to the extreme, with the fires of Nirvana using his physique as a furnace. As they burned, the spreading power of his mind and spirit converged with his physical strength, entirely funneling into a single punch.

"How many swords can you strike?"

With his hair flying wildly in the wind, the Emperor of Yuanmeng swung his fist, staring at An Le, who gripped the bamboo sword with golden eyes.

The golden elixir of sword intent was consuming itself rapidly and could not be sustained for long.

"Only two swords? Truly a pity." Receiving no reply, the Emperor of Yuanmeng had already discerned the reality and sighed in regret.

Then, his punch descended!

An Le, with his golden-hued eyes, likewise lightly swung his sword.

At this moment, under the vault of heaven, nothing remained except a single, colossal character: "One".

After the dazzling brilliance came silence.

The phantom figures behind the Emperor of Yuanmeng shattered and dissipated. His form remained unmoving, but the sleeve that had collided with the sword had long since turned to dust, exposing a thick, muscular arm covered in sword scars.

An Le, his white robes still pure as snow and his eyes glowing gold, drifted lightly to land beside Zhao Huangting.

He gazed calmly at the Emperor of Yuanmeng.

"Can you recover to your peak condition and let Gu behold the great romantic momentum of old?"

The Emperor of Yuanmeng shook his numb arm, looked at An Le, and asked.

"How can the Central Plains lack heroic spirit? How dare an alien race claim to be emperor?"

"There will be a chance."

An indifferent voice drifted from An Le's lips.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng withdrew his fist and stood straight, his eyes gleaming like refined steel.

"Gu will wait."

The Emperor of Yuanmeng smiled lightly, placing his hands behind his back with boundless pride.

He raised his head.

The evening clouds in the sky were torn apart. That "One" sword that had startlingly manifested in the mortal world caused heavenly gates to faintly emerge above the firmament.

A single sword strike opens the heavenly gates.

Though the sword was not swung to kill immortals, the heavenly gates opened of their own accord for it!

As expected of a legendary figure.

How had such a figure died back then?

Would he, too, face such a calamity?

The Emperor of Yuanmeng was deeply curious, but in his pride, he chose not to inquire about it now. He looked forward to a battle where this existence returned to their peak.

If he defeated him, he would naturally know.

If he was defeated, knowing would be meaningless.

"This boy may leave; today Gu will pursue him no further, but whether he can cross the river will depend on fortune."

"Since you take this boy as your successor, Gu's successor shall also openly and squarely contend with him. From this day onward, all geniuses of the Yuanmeng Empire shall take defeating this boy as their goal."

"Gu is still looking forward to that battle, so do not die too soon."

The Emperor of Yuanmeng looked at An Le and spoke.

Boom!

As his words fell, he stamped his foot, sending ripples across the flat ground.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng stepped upward into the sky, his vigorous hair flying, and suddenly appeared directly before the heavenly gates.

His aura blazed like the sun, looking down with disdain upon the restless, immortal-qi-trailing heavenly gates.

With a grab of his five fingers, the dragon vein outside the Yuanmeng capital rose rumbling from the earth, condensing in his hand into a profound-yellow great bow.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng raised his chin, drew the bow to a full moon, and pointed it afar at the heavenly gates.

A peerless prodigy, his spirit swallowing ten thousand miles like a tiger.

He wished to draw his bow and shoot the immortals of heaven!

An Le's golden eyes held a trace of indifference. He glanced at the Master of the Sixth Mountain, then slowly raised the bamboo sword in his hand.

With a wave of the bamboo sword,

sword intent seemed to surge across the entire mortal world, enveloping Zhao Huangting. In an instant, they streaked across the mortal realm, passing over the mountains and rivers of the Central Plains, and vanished from sight.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng remained with his bow drawn toward the heavenly gates, not turning his head as An Le disappeared.

The Master of the Sixth Mountain expressionlessly folded his arms across his chest, his three thousand mortal dust swords all returning into the pine wood sword case.

Since An Le was gone, why should he linger here?

The Master of the Sixth Mountain also departed on his sword.

The Emperor of Yuanmeng showed no intention of detaining anyone.

Wan Jielu, a thousand zhang away, also shot up from the ground, turned his head, and fled wildly, disappearing into the earth.

Snow began to drift from the sky.

The bow-drawing Emperor of Yuanmeng wore a smile at the corner of his lips.

Aside from the Holy Sage, this world had given him yet another cause for anticipation.

The number one emperor throughout the ages... So what?

Today's era is no longer the era of the past!

No one can block the battle horns and iron cavalry of Yuanmeng.

This world shall ultimately grovel entirely at the feet of the Emperor of Yuanmeng!

...

Snow drifted across the sky.

The countless snowflakes were suddenly split into four parts.

When the last wisp of sword intent dissipated, the sword light could no longer traverse the skies.

An Le's white robes fluttered, the gold in his eyes long since faded. With Zhao Huangting on his back, his feet stepped upon the soil of the Central Plains.

The emperor's stone statue had used the power of its final strand of sword intent to send him here.

An Le reached out his hand and gently brushed away the snow-covered stone tablet before him.

Gradually, the ancient characters "Lishan" on the tablet were revealed.

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(End of this chapter)